ain't no hymns for the damned
by Last Girl Standing
Summary: you and me baby! we are the future, and the future is bleak./ he grins animalistically, and she feels like the sheep who just made a deal with the wolf. silena & luke. / a collection based off of asofterworld quotes with no particular genre or focus
1. almost, at least a little

_ain't no hymns for the damned_

**summary: **you make me want to pretend to be a better man. / or, nico is a morning person sometimes and hazel is too.

**disclaimer: **_i don't own these characters. the song mentioned here is from HEMOSTUCK and is not mine. it's called capricorn's lullaby. the lyrics are not mine._

* * *

It's three in the morning when he decides he can't sleep.

The dark marks under his eyes and the lines on his face from worry and his eyes {cold eyes dead eyes old eyes} and the way he walked {old tired burdened like a soldier coming home from a war} were not fitting for a fourteen year old but they were fitting for a tired demigod.

His legs dangle over the edge of the ship, his eyes half closed as he hums an old tune, one that he can barely recollect someone singing to him. He only remembers half of the words, little snippets that he whispers to himself, things like "come what might, come what may" and "cease your empty tears and snarling" but he might remember it wrong.

His eyes flutter close, but he can't sleep. He'll regret it in a few hours, but there's too much whirring around his brain for something as awful as sleep, sleep and nightmares and prophetic dreams, no he'd rather stay awake and think.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, maybe he sits a few minutes or maybe it's a lifetime, he doubts it'd seem different either way. He could sit there an eternity, wasting away, and not notice.

"Morning," a voice says quietly, sitting down beside him. Hazel pulls her knees to her chest and he spares her a passing glance. She sits like Bianca did; making herself as small as possible, pulling her knees to her chest and perching her chin on them. Her hair is pulled into a side braid, but it's frizzier than Bianca's was. Still; if he ignores the details and the voice he can pretend it's her again.

{it's unhealthy as hell to pretend she was bianca constantly, but what choice did he really have?}

He glances at his watch, and it's half past five am, though he'd swear it'd been two and a half minutes not two and a half hours. He'd been bad at time since Lotus.

"Morning," he mumbles back.

{it's nothing nothing nothing at all, just one tired passive word, he wishes he could give her more and maybe this isn't about greetings, maybe it's not even about hazel, maybe it's about bianca and how he was never a good brother to her but ces't la vie}

"What are you thinking about?" she asks and he sighs and there's a lot he could say, he could say bianca or the seven or percy and annabeth or life or her and how he wants to be a better person a better brother but he just sighs.

"Nothing," he says.

* * *

**footnotes;**

_ahahaha this is not the project but whatever _

i was reading asofterworld and oh jesus look at this a collection

this is #614 on asofterworld

this was a terribad ending but whatever jfc

wait for the project it'll be called a game of chess


	2. friday sounds great

_ain't no hymns for the damned_

**summary: **you and i will never be a great love story. that's okay! let's see what kind of story we'll be. / leo, for all he seems to think, is not a great flirt. it's okay, reyna's not totally immune to his charms.

* * *

"So," he drawls, brow furrowing as he tries to read the papers you're going through from where his chin is perched on your shoulder. "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

"Are you calling me Satan?" you raise an eyebrow, glancing at his blush. After a pause in which you allow him to marvel in his own stupidity in a way that was not cute at all, {you're a dirty rotten liar but whatever} you gather your papers and glance back at him. "You're getting grease on me, Repair Boy." You don't mind dirt and grime. You do mind his chin on your shoulder.

He removes himself.

As you stand up, and begin to walk him out so you ccan get work done {psh that's not getting done}, you pause. "How does Friday sound?"

"Wait, what?"

* * *

**footnotes;**

_world i give you 946 and also i can't write fluff i'm sorry_

_next is drew centric so yay?_


	3. feelings? what are those?

_ain't no hymns for the damned_

**summary:** boy, it was a rough couple of days when i first realized other people had feelings. / drew; her siblings, her flesh and blood, and the percent she cares {zero}.

* * *

i.

she is eleven when she comes to camp halfblood.

the girls in her cabin — the older girls, with makeup painted intricately on their faces and clothes that made people stare {or maybe it was the confidence they walked and spoke with — drew didn't know} — said she had 'promise' {"but for what?" she asks, and they hush her} but she needed some changes; contacts, clothes and acne medicine, they started with, and a hair cut.

{they also taught her to not care about anything but what they thought she should care about; her looks, her dating life, and her cabin}

{2/3 isn't too bad, right?}

ii.

she is thirteen when she completes the rite of passage.

he's a son of apollo with bright blue eyes and a tan, and drew lets him get to second base. they date for a month, then she crumbles his heart. she feels guilty for a moment, but then she sees her sisters' approving smirk, and she glows with happiness when she _struts_ past him and to her cabin, skirt swishing around her thighs and all eyes on her.

{when a fourteen year old son of hermes asks her out, she says yes immediately. she dates him for three months and goes as far as third base before repeating her process; it wasn't needed for her to, she already did the rite of passage, but it gave her such a rush, yanno? she didn't care about whatshisface of the month, even if she was sucking him off the other night.}

{it was all for her adrenaline rush of crushing hearts underneath her two inch kitten heels}

iii.

she's eighteen when someone has the balls to stand up to her.

it's a little upstart that just went on a quest, piper mcclean or someshit like that with daddy issues and a superiority complex. drew cannot believe this bitch, as she challenges drew in her own turf — how dare her, she's not been here for even a summer, she goes on one quest and she thinks that she knows better than drew, drew who's been here for seven years, count 'em you dick, how to run the aphrodite cabin? what aphrodite is all about? piper hates what aphrodite girls are like, but she thinks she knows what they're _supposed _to be? how is she any better than people telling _her _who to be?

drew contemplates calling her out, but she decides against that strategy; drew was strategic, alright, and her sense of self preservation told her to retreat and regroup. she wouldn't forgive piper, hell no, but she would need time and her favorite boots.

just let her wait. she'll see.

* * *

**junko mixes = drew writing jams**

**asofterworld 883**


	4. the absolute numbness of pain

summary: we'll always have yesterday / he was just there, just kissing her, smiling crookedly into her lips. how could he be gone?

* * *

she feels numb. _where is he,_ she thinks, staring at fucking percy, _whereishe - whereishe. _

no one says a word. not a thing. the silence is not without implications, and she prays that he's okay, he's just out of sight, but there's something heavy in her chest.

"no!"

"silena -"

"where is he?" she shouts, and she looks like a wreck, a fucking disgrace to the aphrodite cabin that is affirmed by the silver scythe on her wrist. "where is he?"

clarisse drags her away, and silena feels both like she's too numb and too raw to the pain in her chest. she can't breathe, can't scream, oh gods oh gods charles charles why would you leave me?

she doesn't understand why percy gets to live and charles doesn't.

if percy'd died, they'd be fucked for a few more years, yeah, but it'd be written off as a tragedy and a hero's death, with myths told and chapters in history books. charles became nothing but a memory in passing, another casualty of war silena didn't want to count.

she wishes percy had died. it's selfish.

[it's true]

and as she collapses onto the floor of her cabin, silena sobs long and hard.

[she feels she shouldn't be able to. traitors don't have feelings.]

* * *

**a/n;**

**yoo**

**numero 1005.**

**hey. search forums, then those who hunt monsters - die young rpg. it's a literate oc rp group. join meee.**


	5. the snake and the sheep

summary: you and me baby! we are the future, and the future is bleak./ he grins animalistically, and she feels like the sheep who just made a deal with the wolf. silena & luke.

* * *

he tells her he'd keep them safe, if she gives them information.

"if you could be so kind," he smiles ferally, as if to say, 'if you want to leave this room', 'if you want your friends to survive'. she's backed herself into a corner this time, and no batting her eyes or angelic smiles can get her out of this, nor her weapon.

she nods, and he smiles brightly.

she thinks she might be sick.

"don't look so down, my double agent," he croons, slipping a bracelet with a silver scythe on her wrist. silena loves jewelry, he probably reasoned. no one'd look twice at her wearing a bracelet, not close enough to see the charm that hung from it and pressed against her skin.

it burns her skin, except not really, not technically, but it feels like she's carrying atlas' weight on her single slim wrist and ithurtsithurts make it stop.

"just think of the good we'll be doing!" he says jovially, and silena bites back, _'like what?'_ "creating a new future, better for all of us, and aren't you happy to be in on the cause?"

silena thinks, _gods no_ but nods anyway.

* * *

**a/n;**

**yoo**

**numero 1004.**

**hey! go to Percy Jackson forums. in the first ten pages you'll see those who hunt monsters - die young rpg somewhere, run by me. it's a literate oc rp group. join meee.**


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